


Muted

by Prowl_Fan



Series: Who is Italy? [4]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-30
Updated: 2012-06-30
Packaged: 2017-11-08 22:05:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/448046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prowl_Fan/pseuds/Prowl_Fan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Italy decides to torment America, and also has some unexpected visitors...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Muted

Germany woke up, and the world only became a bit brighter than when his eyes were closed. He had a splitting headache, and groaned when America called out,

“Dude, you’re still alive!”

“Not so loud, America,” he moaned.

“Oh, sorry Germany, Dude”

Germany got nearly two seconds of quiet, before Italy slammed the basement door, and walked down the stairs, making as much noise as possible. Eyes focused coolly on Germany and then America and Italy slowly walked to where they were bound to the wall. 

“Now where should I start…?” He muttered, and grabbed America by the neck, while removing his shackles from the wall.

Germany heard massive weights slam to the ground behind the wall, confirming his theory about the counterweights.   
Still holding the taller nation’s neck, Italy dragged America to another room.

“Dude! That hurts!” the American exclaimed hoarsely, despite most of his air being cut off.

Italy emotionlessly flung the blonde onto a table, strapping him tightly in place. 

Cold words echoed in the misty air, as Italy mocked Germany over the sounds of America’s protesting, “Are you watching Germany? Are you watching carefully? America here is about to learn a lesson, so you’d better pay attention,”

He turned away and walked back to the mostly clean table lined with sharp objects. He ran a hand over his many choices, hovering for a moment on the sharp sea-glass, but finally deciding on the traditional scalpel.

He picked the implement up by the blade, flicking it around to rest the handle comfortably in his palm, and slowly walked back to where America was struggling with the leather straps.

“Relax, America it’ll be quick, I promise.” The voice was menacing and America only struggled worse, “Germany, you calm him down. Or else I will kill him right here, right now. Nice and slow. Just like I did with my fratello. Or perhaps like I did with Gilbert.”

The news hit Germany like a punch in the stomach, and he struggled for a moment against the shackles on his wrists.

Italy turned away again, and left the room. Germany cursed under his breath, before trying to comfort the other nation, but as hard as he tried, he couldn’t think of the right words.  
“Hey Germany, it’s okay,” the younger nation seemed to relax, “I got this dude, I am the hero, after all.”

As soon as the words became audible in the musty air, Italy came back downstairs, and glared intently at the pair,

“Now where were we?” he murmured mostly to himself, and loomed ever closer to America’s now only shivering form. Only to be interrupted once again, this time by a knock on   
his door.

“Herro?” called a familiar voice, “Mister Itary?”

“Alfred, you git! Let us in!”

Before they could be stifled, both Germany and America started yelling at the other two, (in actuality there were three…)

“Dude, Iggy run!”

“Japan, get avay!”

Before they could manage to say anything else, sweaty gags were shoved in their mouths, and Italy called out, scrunching his eyes as if he was in pain, “I’m coming!”  
With that he raced up the stairs, and tripped halfway up. He scowled evilly at the two before getting up and continuing on, not even seeming to notice the blood on his skinned knee.

‘He must have always been faking’, Germany realized.

Before long, Italy was at the door,   
“Hi!” they could faintly make out his voice, “everyone’s in my basement!”

The sounds from above faded away for several moments, before they could make out a door slamming, and two people walking down the wooden stairs.  
Metal clicked as Italy locked the basement door.

Struggling furiously, Germany rattled the chains as much as he could ignoring the mind numbing stinging his wrists felt as the rust invaded his veins yet again, blood running in rivers down his arms. 

The two raced down the stairs to find the sound, then stared at the sight. Unfortunately, they only had a few moments to ready themselves before Italy flew down after them.  
“Itary, what are you-“Japan was cut off by his head being slammed into the wall, and the man crumbled in a heap on the ground.

England was quicker. He rushed down the narrow corridor, and passed the still-struggling two other nations, and rushed on.

“Run, little rabbit” called Italy, chasing after him.

Suddenly England was back, and he punched Italy in the face. The brown-haired man didn’t even flinch, copper-eyes staring coolly into frightened olive ones. Italy took the punch, and then caught England’s fist, twisting it to the side so that it broke, and then delivering his own blow. 

He turned to America, and then faced Germany, “it’s alright that you struggled. This time.” He said, calm if the toe unconscious nations hadn’t had a chance defeating him, “you’ll learn.” He walked past the sprawled Japanese man, and kicked him viciously in the stomach, eliciting a groan of pain, “you’ll learn.”

He went back to the table of equipment, and set the scalpel back where it had lain,  
“Now, where were we?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Unbeknownst to any of the people in Italy’s basement, there had been a third traveler with the group.

Canada.

Canada wasn’t sure what had happened, but he heard a struggle, and seen the ignored blood on the Italian’s pants.

It was then that he realized something wasn’t right, although the others hadn’t heard his concerns. They hadn’t even known he had been with him.

Reluctantly, he followed the group through the small house, until Italy shut the door in his face. Which wouldn’t have been a problem, if Italy hadn’t locked the door as well.

Pressing his ear to the door, Canada could hear the struggle, and the rattle of chains.

And then he heard what happened after that.

Wordless horror filled him, and he ran out of the house, down the street, and all the way to his own house. Only when he was behind locked doors did Canada stop and realize what had to be done.

And who he would have to talk with, as soon as he could.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Now, where were we?” Italy murmured, yanking the gags from both of their mouths. 

“Ah, yes. America’s lesson…” he picked up a blade from the long table, this one a smooth knife, with a fancy-looking handle, and a curved blade. Holding it firmly by the blade, he walked calmly over to America.

“Dude, you’re sick.” Ameica taunted, making Italy frown. He used his free hand to pick up a needle full of a light blue gel.

“are you sure you want those to be your last words?” his voice was deep, dark and sounded dangerous.

Acting on impulse, the blonde nation replied cheekily, “Umm, no. How about….” America pondered, “I’m the Hero!”

“Fair enough,” came the reply, and the needle was jabbed deep into America’s neck, going straight into the muscles in his tongue.

“By the way, this isn’t a sedative.” Italy told him, almost reassuringly, “this is just to force you to relax, and to slow down the bleeding. which means something very important. it means you’ll feel every little thing I do.” With that he picked up the knife, and stuck it into America’s neck, careful to avoid the thick veins. With a sharp twist, he severed the vocal cords, and his now-free hand pulled them out, almost lovingly. 

Prying his jaw open, Italy stuck the bloody knife into America’s mouth,and continued speaking, "I'm only say this becaue it's not like you'll ever be able to tell Germany," and with that, he cut of the tongue in one jagged slash.

“All done!” he burst, in the same voice they had all grown used to hearing him speak with, and started to sew the man’s neck up.


End file.
